


Summer of Love

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Series: 2010 Fic Project [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a long way from Colorado to New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer of Love

**Author's Note:**

> The Season Two 10+2 in 2010 fic, set during the episode 1969.
> 
> Originally posted February 2010

SUMMER OF LOVE

“Where are we going?”

Her hand firmly held by the man beside her, Sam ducked under a low hanging branch. The path through the knee-high grass was just visible in the fading light but Jack walked with his usual confidence, following the path farther away from the campground and deeper into the surrounding woods. The air was heavy and redolent with the heavy fragrances of summer in the country, tinged with the deeper woody undertones from the camp fires she could see flickering through the trees. The crickets, cicadas and night birds didn’t seem at all disturbed by their presence or the faint sounds of laughter and talking that carried easily through the night air.

“Not far.” Jack flashed a grin and offered no further explanation.

And Sam decided she didn’t really care. They might be stranded back in time with their only chance of returning home dependent on two hippies on a cross-country road trip in a converted school bus to find a Stargate that may or may not be accessible and a cryptic message from the future, but she didn’t think she’d ever been happier. She was with her team, and perhaps more importantly, she was with the man she loved.

Sam slowed down when Jack did and she wondered for a minute if he was lost when he seemed to stop and waver in his path, but he made an abrupt right turn down an even fainter path. The grass brushed against her skirt and even though it was a warm night, she was glad she’d left her jacket on when ahead of her, Jack disappeared into a leafy thicket. He tugged on her hand and she ducked her head, following him through the bushes, emerging mostly intact on the other side where she stopped in amazement.

She stood in a small clearing where it looked like Jack had set-up some kind of camp. Her tactical brain took a moment to appreciate the strategic placement of a camp in a sheltering alcove of trees and bushes. There was a lean-to constructed out of what could only be one of the many colorful blankets from the bus and a safe distance away, a fire pit. But what made her heart beat a little faster was the cozy pile of blankets and pillows resting in the shelter of the lean-to.

Jack had a very pleased look on his face when he released her hand and left her at the edge of the small clearing; he knelt down and pulled out a book of matches, lighting the kindling and wood neatly arranged in the small fire pit. The wood caught, the flames flickering brightly, the wood starting to crackle and snap. He looked up at her and grinned. “You didn’t really want to spend another night listening to Jenny and Michael go at it, did you?”

She shook her head, a small smile twitching at her lips. No…she really didn’t. Jenny and Michael were very generous, making room for them in the bus, but they were also very…energetic. If their first night on the road was an indication of what was in store for the rest of the trip, she knew she’d soon be finding some excuse to leave the dubious comfort of the bus and sleep out in the open. “What about Daniel and Teal’c?”

Jack had moved from the fire over to the lean-to and he paused briefly in spreading out the blankets. “Daniel sleeps like a log and Teal’c’s got that kel-no-reem thing going.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she said. “What did you tell them about this?” She gestured towards the bed Jack was fashioning.

“What’s there to tell?” he shrugged. “We’re just making alternative sleeping arrangements.”

“Sleeping?” She smiled wryly and took the hand he held out to her, letting him pull her down onto the pallet of blankets he’d fashioned.

His slow smile and the warm look of desire in his eyes made her insides all fluttery. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the way he looked at her now that they were lovers and rapidly hoped she never would. He made her feel like the most special woman on Earth—or any other planet, for that matter. “Maybe not just sleep,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

He leaned towards her and Sam met him halfway, their lips meeting in a slow kiss. She shifted closer, cradling his cheek with one hand and tugging the ridiculous cap off his head, her fingers immediately stroking through his short hair. He rumbled something deep in his chest that sounded suspiciously like, “Hey, my cap” rather than the usual words of endearment.

“What did you say?” Sam asked when the kiss ended. She watched with interest as Jack looked—almost frantically it seemed—around the blankets, finally finding his embroidered do-rag and holding it up in triumph.

“My cap,” he said, stuffing it into pocket of his jeans.

Sam shook her head, taking the opportunity to start unlacing her boots, it felt so good to get her feet out of the heavy boots. She sighed, wiggling her toes and commented idly, “I don’t know why you bought that silly thing.”

“Hey!” Jack paused in untying his boots and answered, sounding affronted. “It only cost fifty cents. Besides, you just had to have those rose-colored glasses.”

“It goes with the whole sixties look,” she said. She started slipping off one of the half-a-dozen or so bead necklaces Jenny had insisted she purchase to go with her new clothes. “And anyway, I don’t remember ever seeing any leather-jacket wearing hoodlums with ethnically embroidered do-rags.” She took her quilted jacket off, carefully folding the cheap necklaces up in it and setting it safely aside and glared mildly at him, all stretched out on the blankets in his white T-shirt and jeans. “All you need is a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of that T-shirt.”

Jack laughed. “Hoodlums? Just how old were you in 1969?”

She glared mildly at him. “You know how old I was.”

He tugged on her arm and she let him pull her down, sprawling across his chest. His hand ran down her back, resting lightly against her butt. “You were too young to be messing around with any hoodlums.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, pretending to give it some thought. “Maybe I have you confused with Fonzie.”

Jack snorted then. “It’s the sixties,” he said, with a pained look. “Not the fifties.”

“Don’t really care what year it is right now,” she murmured, pressing a trail of kisses along his jaw, the slightly rough texture of his end-of-day stubble tickling her lips.

“Hang on a minute, Sam.”

She clutched at his shoulders when he abruptly twisted, depositing her on her back before he loomed over her and reached up, tugging on the upper edge of the brightly woven bedspread he’d used for their lean-to. The gauzy material tumbled down, acting as a curtain, shielding them from the outside world. The firelight glimmered through the loose weave of the material; the blues, greens, reds and golds of the fabric glowing like gems.

“Very clever,” she said, looping her arms around his neck.

“I have my moments,” he commented. She moaned a bit in frustration when he evaded her attempts to pull him down to her, but all was good when he started unbuttoning her lacy white blouse. She moaned again when he lightly traced his finger down her breast bone and hooked it in the front of her bra, tugging experimentally, a devilish grin on his face. “I thought women didn’t wear bras in the sixties?”

Her answering chuckle was ragged. “I was wearing diapers in the sixties, Jack, not bras.”

“Don’t remind me,” he growled, nuzzling her throat and nipping gently. “I already feel like the old man around here.”

“My old man,” she replied, threading her fingers through his short hair. Her feelings for him—and their relationship—was something she wasn’t allowed to flaunt. Maybe one day, she hoped, but for now she had to be content in reminding him.

“So,” he drawled, toying with a strand of her hair, “does that make you my old lady?”

“Damn straight.” Sam slid the hand in his hair to his nape and pressed; his eyes darkened and his lips curved in a lazy smile as he lowered his head. She opened to him immediately, eagerly melding her mouth to his, their tongues tangling as the kiss deepened. Jack settled more heavily over her and she shifted, bending her knee when one of his warm hands glided slowly beneath her skirt and along her thigh.

She smiled against his mouth, there were definitely some advantages to wearing a skirt. Of course, she sighed softly, clothing was never much of an obstacle for Jack. His fingers drew lazy circles on her inner thigh while they continued to kiss and she decided hazily she’d have to wear skirts more often, there was something incredibly erotic about the soft flow of the material against her legs combined with Jack’s tantalizing caresses.

“You know,” he murmured while leaving a trail of kisses down her throat. “I like you in a skirt.”

Sam smoothed her hand down the smooth material of the cotton covering his back, tugging at it once she reached the rougher fabric of his jeans. “I think I like you better without this.”

“My wish is your command.” Jack reared up and pulled the T-shirt off over his head, his hands brushing at the top of the low covering of their lean-to, tossing it in the general direction of her neatly folded jacket. His skin gleamed in the burnished blow from the fire, shadow and light defining his muscles. His face was in shadow but she had no trouble seeing the barely restrained fire in his eyes.

God, he was so handsome it made her ache inside. She loved the hint of gray in his hair, it made him look even more handsome—if that was possible. And even before they’d become intimate, she’d always appreciated his muscled body. It seemed like it had been forever since their last time together and she was hungry for his kisses and his touch. And she was also even more fascinated with him than ever.

The last two days had been eye opening, she felt like she was finally getting to know the man inside the colonel. It was as if changing out of their BDU’s and into the colorful, contemporary clothing had transformed more than his outer appearance, he had changed subtly too. Oh, his determination and leadership was still evident but there was also a more playful side emerging, yet another fact of his personality of which she’d only caught rare glimpses—and she definitely wanted to see more. But right now the more she wanted to see was on a more primal level.

Sitting up, she reached for him, lightly running her fingers down his chest, her fingers just brushing against the waistband of his jeans when her wrist was suddenly encircled in an implacable grip. “Jack,” she huffed in frustration, feeling slightly annoyed by the amused look on his face when she met his eyes. “I like you better without these, too,” she complained, trying to hook her fingers in the waistband.

“All in good time,” he replied. “But first….” He released her wrist and before she could continue in her quest, his hands slid beneath her open blouse and all coherent thought left her with the first touch of hands on her breasts.

“Jack,” she moaned softly, leaning into him and burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder. It wasn’t long before her blouse drooped off her shoulders, his fingers leaving delicate ripples of pleasure across her skin. She let the sleeves drift down over her hands while those same clever fingers released the hooks of her bra. Sam lifted her head and watched him as she shrugged her shoulders. The look of fierce desire in his eyes as her bra tumbled down to her waist, the straps falling down her arms, filled her with intense satisfaction. When he looked at her like that…like his very existence depended on her, the heady rush of power that filled her was more potent than any aphrodisiac.

Sam’s lips curved in a lazy smile and she lay back down on the blankets; confidently aware of Jack’s eyes on her while she stretched slightly, his gaze drawn straight to her breasts. “Is it time yet?”

“Hell, yes,” he growled, immediately following her down and covering her with his hard body. She clutched at his shoulders, his lips fastening on hers in a demanding kiss, his hands fumbling at her waist, catching and tugging at the material of her skirt.

“Zipper,” she reminded him breathlessly. “Can’t ruin my only skirt.” He growled again, but slowed down, and between the two of them they managed to make quick work of her skirt, and panties, keeping them both intact.

“Your turn now,” she commanded next, still frustrated by his jeans—despite the amazingly erotic feel of the rough denim against her bare legs.

In a few economical movements that miraculously didn’t bring down the lean-to on top of them, Jack shed his jeans and briefs. Sam let out a sigh of relief when he finally returned to her arms.

“Better?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

“Much,” she agreed, shifting slowly beneath him, ensuring that he could feel every inch of her against him. She carefully wrapped one leg around him, her breath catching on a pleased gasp when the movement brought his pelvis into more favorable contact and she felt him hot and heavy against her belly. “Jack,” she moaned, tightening her leg around him and reaching down between their bodies, her fingers just brushing against his engorged flesh before her wrist was once more held in his firm grip.

“Not yet,” he rumbled.

Sam didn’t protest when he pinned her wrist down onto the blanket, she couldn’t, the smooth glide of his mouth down across her throat to her breasts took her breath away. Her free hand found its way along his shoulder, gliding across the firm muscles before settling into his hair. She arched into his touch, her fingers raking lightly through his short hair while he kissed and sucked at her sensitive flesh. She moaned, twisting languidly beneath him, pleasure spreading through her, the warmth settling low in her belly.

Every time they made love it still managed to surprise her at how easily she responded to him; on an intellectual level she was terrified by her helpless response to him. But how she felt for him went deeper than anything she’d ever experienced before; they had started as colleagues, moved to friends and in spite of what might seem insurmountable obstacles, had become lovers. He’d seeped into her very soul and now she could no more stop loving him than she could stop breathing.

She’d trusted him with her life long before she’d trusted him with her heart, and he had never let her down. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t drive her crazy—like right now.

“Jack,” she gasped, finally freeing her captive hand and this time he didn’t stop her when she gently grasped his rigid length. “You’re killing me.”

He groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. “I’m killing you?”

Her answering chuckle was ragged. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she threatened, emphasizing her intent with a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, ma’am.” He lifted his head and she let herself drown in his burning gaze as he started to move, slowly pressing into her. “Whatever you say.”

If only he was always so compliant, Sam thought fleetingly. And then she couldn’t think at all, she could only feel. He thrust heavily into her, his hands moving to cup her shoulders. She shifted with him, wrapping both her legs around his lean hips and moving with him. She opened herself completely to him, heedless of the hard ground beneath her, the intense desire she felt for Jack over-riding everything else.

Safe within the shelter of their psychedelic lean-to, their soft gasps and groans blended with the night sounds surrounding them; the wildlife undisturbed by the intrusion. Sam clutched almost desperately at his shoulders, pure pleasure building within her until it couldn’t be contained any longer. She wanted to scream, but mindful of their semi-public location, she buried her face against Jack’s shoulder, gasping his name as ecstasy crashed through her. She continued to cling to him even as she trembled in the sweet aftermath, cradling her with his body until he eventually surrendered, thrusting deep, his hips grinding against hers as he shuddered endlessly in her arms.

Sam sighed softly, her fingers ruffled lightly through Jack’s hair; his breath washed warmly against her throat and, in what had become their usual routine, he carefully relaxed against her, nestled securely in her arms. The firelight glowed dimly now, night well and truly setting in as the darkness surrounded them. Their future might still be uncertain, but right now, Sam felt amazingly content. She smiled and pressed a kiss to Jack’s throat. “Not bad for an old man.”

“I’d take offense to that.” Jack groaned, slowly moving off her until he rested on his side next to her. His dark eyes were lazy with contentment when he smiled at her. “But I feel too good.”

She chuckled and sat up, looking around the small space and trying to ignore Jack’s hand as it wandered lightly across her back. “Ah,” she murmured in triumph when she saw his T-shirt, pulling it on, she would feel just a little more secure with something on, given their current location. Jack took the opportunity to rearrange their shelter, crawling past her and flipping the fabric curtain back.

Sam watched appreciatively as he stood, still buck naked, and added more wood to the fire. He caught her looking at him and grinned. “Like what you see?” She had to smother a grin when he swaggered back to the lean-to and crawled in, lying down and pulling her into his arms.

“Like I said,” she teased, snuggling into his embrace. “Not bad for an old man.”

THE END


End file.
